


Quips and endearments

by qwertysweetea



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Elvish Translations, Banter, Elvish, Endearments, Feel-good, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Light-Hearted, M/M, Male Friendship, Pet Names, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Romantic Friendship, flirtatious banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14212749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: He found that endearments were second nature to Aragorn, when the mood took him. He spoke with a conviction that came with wanting to win a long and arduous game that he thoroughly enjoyed playing.Legolas turned to Aragorn, keeping the same respectable distance he always did, and when the words came out they seemed to drip from his smiling lips like honey, eyes softening. “Oltho vae ne fuin hen, meleth nín.”Legolas and Aragorn keep morale up by relentlessly flirting with each other in Elvish.





	Quips and endearments

**Author's Note:**

> I re-watched the series recently and I'm convinced that Aragorn and Legolas have one of those wonderful banterous and flirty friendship where they call each other pet names and joke about sleeping with each other much to the confusion of the fellowship.
> 
> The (poor-quality) Elvish translations are at the end if you would like them. Personally, I like the idea of us not knowing what they're saying but I'm not cruel enough to leave them out.

It started as a well-timed quip between Aragorn and Gimli, as sharp as dwarf humour could get with enough friendliness behind it to take out the sting, about him missing the comforts of his Elf lover. Aragorn smiled big and bright as the dwarf mocked him, and didn’t deny it. Gimli was right; he wanted very little besides the chance to bury his face in her luscious hair again.

Since the first days of their journey as the fellowship, many of them had developed a kinship; his and Gimli’s was jibbing and jovial, kind-hearted. Boromir joined in wholeheartedly. The hobbits and Gandalf laughed along without involving themselves. Legolas was a different matter. Whatever petty or creative insults they found to bounce off each other didn’t appear to ever reach him; his reactions, famously hard to draw out.

Until then, he expected his kinship with Legolas to remain as it always had been: comfortable and passive, thick with their shared experiences.

"I understand your longing for Elven company Aragorn. Regardless, I shall remind you that my sleeping mat will not accommodate two.”

Now Aragorn was staring back at Legolas, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and pride in the unexpected response. Gimli also, having to expend much of his energy on not laughing, didn’t quite know where to put his face.

It took a full, loud laugh from Boromir to tug Aragorn out of his pride enough to reply.

“Are you certain?” He said after a few moments more, cocky smirk taking over all else. “I am sure we could find room if you surrender your shyness and a small amount of armour.”

“I am certain,” Legolas replied, smiling back. “You will not get my armour off of me tonight.”

After that, only every now and again, Legolas felt one of Aragorn’s warm hands linger a little too long on his upper-arm, or his shoulder knock against his when they had no cause to be so close. He always countered by leaning a little too close as Aragorn muttered to him under his breath his predictions about their path or as he told Aragorn what he could feel heading towards them.

Ministrations breaking up jibes and bite-backs that sparked in them both a small amount of joy. A small but very welcome release of something dark and listless they had allowed to build up inside with the long days of travel and very short nights of rest.

The endearments came next, and Legolas had been the one to start them.

“We are clear, at least a day to the east and we will be sheltered by the rocks.”

“There is nightfall between us and then.” Aragorn countered. “We are on the plains until then. We rely on fate.”

“If we pick up pace, we may make it before daybreak.”

A harsh remark was already on Aragorn's tongue, eyes dropped and jaw tight with irritation and fatigue when Legolas came to a halt, placing his hand firm on his arm to ground him.

“Do not lose faith in us, mell nín.”

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips, but he did not reply as Legolas let go and they continued. It wasn’t much by many accounts, but to Legolas it was everything. 

He had seen how easy the length and distance of journeys wear down at the morale of the strongest men. A smile proved that it was still there to inflame… moreover, a smile meant that he had the ability to inflame it.

Behind them Gandalf watched, a smile dancing off his own lips.

Legolas found that endearments could have been second nature to Aragorn, when the mood took him. Elvish words of beauty and love dripped off of his lips as though he was an age-old poet. The first time he was truly countered, the sheer force of Aragorn’s hidden abilities knocked the air out of his chest in the best way.

Aragorn spoke with a conviction that came with wanting to win a long and arduous game that he thoroughly enjoyed playing. He had the benefit of life experience and his tongue wrapped around the language. That alone was enough to make Legolas double his efforts.

He liked this game, that he couldn’t deny. There was something wholesome and intimate about it, friendly, made friendlier with the mutual platonic fondness. Legolas had watched them play with only a vague understanding and a small desire to be a part of it but no idea how to interject. Now that he had started, it seemed almost natural to him too.

‘Mell nín’ and ‘Meleth nín’ rolled off his tongue as though they were supposed to be spoken.

Aragorn had taken to calling him ‘Mîr nín’.

“Tolo anin naur, mîr nín.” He would say.

Legolas would find himself smiling whether or not he felt like it, “Be iest lín” he would say, as he joined him by the fire.

Gimli or Boromir would roll their eyes dramatically, sometimes both at the same time, scoffing in the back of their throats as they always did when the two started speaking a language they couldn’t understand. More and more they had been seen muttering to each other in their own language, heads bowed in close and smiles etched thick on their faces. Long had Gimli and Boromir stopped being paranoid about what was being said. Now they were simply curious.

This time, Legolas didn't sit with them long before he was adjusting himself to stand.

“I will take first watch, you should all try to rest.” Legolas remarked in the common tongue. Then he turned to Aragorn, keeping the same respectable distance he always did, and when the words came out they seemed to drip from his smiling lips like honey, eyes softening.

Sam recognised it from those sleazy hobbits he always saw lurking around Rosie, and he looked away awkward before looking back in curiosity.

“Oltho vae ne fuin hen, meleth nín.” Legolas added, the flirtation overpowered by a mischievous glee.

Aragorn laughed, low and loud in his throat. “Harton cened le ennas.”

Across the fire, as Legolas stood to take back up his place on the outside of the group, Pippin turned to Gandalf. “Far be it from me to judge… with my limited knowledge on the habits of men and elves, but is anyone else noticing how these two look only a handful of steps away from a bridal march?”

“Be grateful, master Took, that you do not understand what they say.” Gandalf quirked an eyebrow at the two he watched, eyes flicking briefly to the hobbit at his side before returning.

“And you can count your blessings we do not often mean what we say.” Aragorn countered almost immediately, he once again took the hobbit by surprise with his hearing.

In the dark, Legolas smiled before knitting his eyebrows together as though in offense, knowing that Aragorn would be able to see him if he tried. “You speak only for yourself, muin nín. I mean every word.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have some poor translations:
> 
> **Mell nín** | My beloved
> 
> **Meleth nín** | My love
> 
> **Mîr nín** | My jewel
> 
> **Tolo anin naur, mîr nín** | Come near the fire
> 
> **Be iest lín** | As you wish
> 
> **Oltho vae ne fuin hen, meleth nín** | May you dream well tonight, my love
> 
> **Harthon cened le ennas** | I hope to see you there


End file.
